The Long Way Home
by DustWriter
Summary: An expanded option to the Mockingjay epilogue that takes Katniss across Panem to get Peeta back home.
1. Chapter 1

As far as expanded endings to the four sentence we got in _Mockingjay_, I should admit this is a little farfetched. I just liked the idea of exploring the epilogue through the eyes of the other characters' interaction with Katniss and Peeta, so I went ahead. It's all for fun, hope you enjoy. (Thank you Suzanne Collins for your characters.)

This is rated T for moderate language and references to sexuality, so please read at your discretion.

p.s. And I know Peeta lives three houses away from Katniss (_Catching__Fire_), but it's just more convenient for my story if he lives next door.

"You're back."

I wonder if there was anything more I should have said. Too late now. It's already evening. He's inside his house. Probably getting ready to sleep. He was up at sunrise today planting those primrose bushes. Either he's not sleeping at all or going to bed early. Maybe both.

My legs are covered with ash above the line where I took off my boots. I glance over to the door where they sit. I can see sooty prints leading from the door to the boots. The dead followed me home. I crawl over to the couch and cry myself to sleep.

Madge is waiting for me at my gravesite. She holds out her hands to me. I don't want to climb in, but the guilt forces my hands from my sides to meet hers. She pulls me with a strength I didn't expect, even in a nightmare, and I half-fall into the grave. Still holding my hands, she sits down, facing me and I sit opposite her. Although I'm not looking up, I know all the hands who shovel the ashes onto me. She stares into my eyes as we are buried together. I blink. Prim is holding my hands. Fire erupts from underneath our shared grave and envelopes us.

"Katniss. Katniss. Katniss."

Peeta is kneeling by the sofa, softly saying my name over and over again. I gasp for air, struggling to push myself up, but my arms aren't cooperating. He helps me sit up as I gulp in breaths. He's making a shushing noise, hands on my knees while he watches my face. My throat hurts; I must have been screaming. I'm damp with sweat. As I push the hair out of my face I can feel it's sticky with tears too.

"She's okay," Peeta says, turning to the door. I look over my shoulder and I see Greasy Sae shielding her sweet granddaughter behind her, early morning light spilling in the door behind them. Sae nods and leads the young girl into the kitchen, avoiding me. The girl smiles and waves anyway, then retreats back to her world.

He looks back to me. I glance down at his hands on my legs. He does too.

"Sorry," he mutters with muted embarrassment. He stands awkwardly, collecting a wrapped parcel from the floor by us. From the sweet smell, I can tell it's a loaf of fresh bread. As I inhale I notice the limp has returned. He's stronger but still has a way to go before he's himself again. Like me. I should have said more.

He moves to the kitchen and I hear him offer his assistance to Sae. I stand weakly and make my way to the stairs to clean myself up. Pulling my bedroom door closed, I see Buttercup sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. He sleeps on my bed whether or not I do. I guess to remind me I'm a poor substitute for his former charge. I stumble to the single dresser of clothes I have and don't even look as I pull out pants and a shirt. I drag my clothes along the floor as I shuffle to the bathroom.

The mirror confronts me harshly. I'm pale and sweating, my lips are thin from how tightly I clench my jaw at night. My eyes are glazed and my hair sticks up one side. I sigh and turn on the shower.

Descending the stairs, I can hear Peeta talking to Sae's granddaughter in soft tones. I stop to listen to him talk about the different types of flour, going into great detail even though I don't think the girl's really listening. It's just something soothing to hear. Like when he explained different types of bread to me before our scoring in the first Games.

I sink down to listen, and close my eyes. I can see him sitting across from me; still whole, face and hands unscarred by fire. I remember him telling me to laugh as though he'd make a joke and find myself smiling anyway. It was so comforting to be part of a team while the others were all against us. Someone had my back. I wasn't alone.

"Katniss? Is that you?"

"Yes," I call back to Greasy Sae. I get up and finish descending the stairs. Peeta is sitting at the table already. The three small bowls of flour that sit on the table in front of him have finger prints where the dreamy-eyed girl plays with the texture of them. Sae is dumping a pile of eggs on his plate and another on an empty place for me. She's eating her portion right out of the bowl. I like how she does what she pleases. I had to do what everyone else wanted for so long.

I can't think of anything to say while we eat, so I say nothing. Peeta and Sae have little to say to one another, but they try. The weather, the food, the rebuilding. Peeta helps her with the dishes, I think to avoid having to stay at the empty table with me. Sae collects her granddaughter and leaves. He follows her out the door with a glance back to me. I meet his eyes. Then he's gone.

I sit at the table for nearly half an hour before I realize the house is empty and silent. I can't stop thinking about how we're all that's left of what this place used to be. How cruel it is that only we two are abandoned here by everyone in life and death. More so for Peeta. I'm a reminder of how he gave everything for someone unworthy. He's a reminder of how who you are, even inside, can be taken away by a cruel game.

I push myself away from the table and find my boots. Buttercup strolls downstairs and looks for leftovers, but I have nothing to offer. I collect the bow and quiver from where I dropped it by the door and he leaves the house with me when set out to the woods again. The cat splits off for his own adventures as usual. I'll see him again in a few days. Neither of us have anywhere else to go.

Today is difficult, but not as much as yesterday. I'm only able to sit on my rock and wait for prey, but I'm ecstatic when I hit two squirrels chasing each other across a tree close by. I can give one to Peeta. I have to take him one. He brought bread this morning. I can't owe him anything more. My debt to him is more than I could repay in one lifetime.

I collect them and realize I've forgotten my knife to field dress the carcasses. I'll have to leave now to keep the meat salvageable. As I shuffle back to the house, I wonder if he'll even accept the squirrel. He didn't even try to talk to me. Will he want to see me? Things are so strained and confusing.

I finally cross the field to his back porch. I see smoke from the chimney and know he's in the kitchen. Baking. As he always is. An anchor in the storm.

My heart is pounding as I knock on the door adjoining the kitchen. What could I say to him? I wish Sae, her granddaughter, even Haymitch were here to cushion this discomfort.

"I brought you a squirrel."

Even through the screen door I can see he's eyeing me like I'm a madwoman. I hold up the two creatures to show him that I didn't lie. "For the bread. This morning."

"You don't owe me for the bread."

I look down at the squirrels. I don't know how to respond. I guess he wants me to leave. I turn to go.

He pushes the screen door open and holds it. I watch him carefully, then step inside his kitchen.

The heat is unbearable. The oven must have been on all day. There seems to be a rotating line of pans and dishes in the sink and the oven. At least a dozen loaves are cooling on wire racks all over the counters and another two dozen are wrapped in paper in a large pile on his dining table. I wonder if he followed Sae to my house because there's no room here to eat.

I put down the squirrels on his table to peel off my coat; I'm already sweating. I look over at Peeta. His shirt is damp and his hair is stuck to his forehead. All the windows are open in the cool spring air, but it's not helping.

He's looking at the squirrels. "You need to clean them?" I nod. "It's not so bad in the living room."

I stand mutely while he rinses a large bowl free of flour. He collects two sharp knives, a cutting board and a ream of wax paper and walks over to the living room. I follow him, grabbing the squirrel tails and pulling them along.

It's not so bad, but still warm. The smell of butter and flour are everywhere. He sets up a carving station on his coffee table and looks to me. I set down the squirrels, positioning them to start working. I look up to see he's already back in the kitchen. I began my work silently.

The TV is on. He uses it for background noise, like me. So our houses aren't silent tombs for the lonely occupants. It's an old movie, one I remember my mother and father watched with me. I tune it out and begin removing the tiny organs. I'm focused and meticulous. There's no point in hunting if I can't get useful meat from these animals. They're done and I'm ready to carve the meat from the bones when Peeta returns.

He's carrying two glasses of tea full of ice cubes. He stands far enough from me that I have to lean to take the glass even when he holds it out to me. We sip in silence and watch as the movie ends and a newsreel begins.

When the reporter tells the viewers to stay tuned for a special report from Two, Gale's smiling face flashes on the screen. The promo lets him say a few lines about how well things are going, but there are challenges and so forth. The reel cuts away and tells us we have to watch another program later to get the full story. A commercial about a new railway begins.

I sit silently, my fist clenched around the glass. At home these occurrences aren't painful. But with Peeta standing next to me it's horrifying. After all this, Peeta's the one left behind to pick up the pieces. It's thrown in his face over and over again.

"I'm going to take a shower. You can leave the squirrel in the icebox."

He says nothing more as he climbs the stairs to his room. I do as he says but leave him the meat from both. I'm not hungry anymore.

He doesn't return with Sae the next morning. Her granddaughter looks for him, stretching her fingers as they seek the silky flour. I don't offer any explanation. Sae lets me eat breakfast without speaking.

I set snares today. It's less taxing and I'm able to set four good ones easily. I wander around the woods with my bow for a short while, hoping for something slow. An unfortunate beaver waddles past and meets his demise. Cleaning the animal on an angled rock, I debate whether to offer half to Peeta. I decide against it. He does not want to see me. I wonder if he'll move back to town when the bakery is rebuilt. It would be easier on him. Maybe for both of us.

It's late afternoon when I walk back through town, game bag over my shoulder. Carts of the dead rumble past me towards the meadow. I look away. I don't want to recognize anyone.

I let myself into the empty house I'm forced to call home. The front parlor is orange in the late sun. I stop for a moment at the color. It's Peeta's favorite. I close my eyes, willing this pain to stop haunting me.

I stare firmly at the carpet to avoid seeing any more light. I stomp into the kitchen, counting the tiles until I'm at the sink. I dump the carcass of the beaver into the sink, yank out knives from a drawer and start carving. It takes me a long time to get the pelt off. It's distracting and I'm grateful. Finally I have a neat pelt, something to give away in town. I rinse my hands and locate the wax paper. I wrap up the meat for Sae to cook tomorrow morning.

Opening the icebox door, I'm surprised by a note tied to a boxed package. I set down the beaver inside and pull out the box.

Sae's shaky handwriting tells me she found this left for me when she stopped by at lunchtime. I open the package. Two cheese biscuits are tucked neatly inside. I can barely push the box back inside the icebox before slipping to the floor.

I'm alone when I wake up screaming. It's still dark out. I can't fully remember the nightmare, but I watched Finnick's throat torn by the reptilian monster more than once. My body aches from where I lean against the icebox on the floor. It must be very early morning, maybe two or three.

I stand up clumsily and stumble to the stairs. I still have blood under my nails from the beaver carcass and my clothes are grimy. I stop short at the window halfway up the staircase.

His light is on.

I stand and watch the shadow of the movement in the room facing my house. I can't tell what he's doing. Painting? Writing? I watch his form in the window.

It feels like an hour before I see him stand and the light clicks off in the side room. He moves along the hallway to his room and the light goes dark from his house. I walk up to my room and sit on my bed, facing his room. Is he dreaming? Is he lying awake? Is he watching my window?

Somewhere along my rambling thoughts I fall back asleep. In the dream I'm outside the observation window to Peeta's hospital room in District 13, but it's his bedroom on the other side. He's under his sheets but clearly having a nightmare. I can see the tense muscles twitching and his eyes darting under the pale lids. I look for the door to go inside and wake him up, but there's no way out of the booth. I bang on the glass, hoping he'll hear and wake up, but he doesn't.

Snow moves in front of the window. I'm frozen. He smiles sweetly at me, blood coating his lips. He looks over to Peeta's sleeping form. I start screaming.

He moves deliberately to Peeta's bedside and pulls a syringe from his suit coat pocket. It's full of a violently green liquid. I'm screaming until I can't breathe. I'm kicking the glass and pounding on the walls, but I can't get out of the observation room. I'm walled away from helping anyone.

The green liquid disappears into Peeta's vein and the reaction is instantaneous. He's awake I think, his eyes are open, but the agony is clearly preventing him from seeing or hearing anything but the horrors created by the venom. He thrashes. I think he's calling my name, but I can't tell for the slurring among the cries.

The thrashing slows. He's twitching, breathing raggedly. Slower. Slower. Then it stops all together. His blue eyes are open, trained on me, but they see nothing. He's dead.

Suddenly Snow is in front of the window again. He holds up another syringe. His fist punches through the glass and the needle plunges into my brain.

When I wake up I'm gasping for air. The pale light of morning is coming through the curtains. I can see smoke coming from the chimney. Peeta is alive and in his kitchen. I close my eyes and hold my breath until I hear Sae coming in the front door, calling my name.

That day I collect two rabbits from the snares and reset them. I wander home the long way through town today, sometimes straight through the streets and sometimes hiding in the shadows to watch the recovery of the dead. Even now, months after I've returned there are still bodies to be found. The destruction is endless.

I trip over my feet home and call Dr. Aurelius as Peeta advised. I don't have anything I want to say.

"Has Peeta arrived safely?" he asks me after our obligatory hellos.

"Yes. Two days ago."

"And everything is…fine?"

"I guess."

"Hmmm."

I'm irritated at this response. It's stupid to think everything would be just fine. "It's fine," I say stubbornly.

"If anything…" he pauses for a long while to find the word "…concerns you, please call me. I know I said I'm not interested in staying in Twelve, but I will come to you if you need me."

"If he tries to kill me?"

"He won't do that, Katniss," Dr. Aurelius says firmly. "He's been working hard for a long time to get through this. But he does get distracted. I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not asking you to babysit him, but if you see anything unusual, just call me. Please."

I stare out the window at the field between my house and the rows of still-empty Victor houses on the other side. I can't be responsible for him. "I don't think I can do that."

Dr. Aurelius sighs. "It's okay. Let's not talk about him. Let's talk about you. What are you doing to keep busy?"

I go into my tedious stories of hunting and walking. I mention seeing the bodies they dig up, but I can't summon any emotion and the doctor doesn't force it. It's all ash in my head.

We end our phone call with an empty promise that I'll call tomorrow. I'll call next week.

I pick at the leftover beaver meat sitting on the floor in front of my TV. There's a terrible singing competition show on. Most everyone makes me want to go deaf. I finish what I can and switch off the TV and drop the dish in the sink. I'll wash it tomorrow. I slip upstairs and prepare myself for another night of screaming.

The next day is the same and the one after. Peeta leaves bread on the porch for Greasy Sae to find but does not join us for breakfast. On the third day she's able to catch him and demand he entertain her granddaughter again.

This time he locates a baking pan in the recesses of my disused cabinets and fills the bottom with a half-inch of flour. He draws pictures with his fingers in the flour for her; a flower, a bird, a house. She takes the pan eagerly and goes to sit on the porch.

"Thank you, Peeta," Sae smiles as she chops potatoes.

He smiles at her and moves to sit at the table opposite me. I'm suddenly aware that I was staring and look away.

"How is the hunting?" It takes me a minute to realize he's speaking to me.

"Good. I've gotten a few rabbits and a turkey."

"Can I trade you for some?"

"You already leave me bread, take what you need."

"That's not really a trade. I'm making bread for everyone. They keep shipping me supplies from the capital. What do you need?"

I feel a little better that the bread wasn't a simple kindness from him; I can't bear his kindness. It still bothers me that he's making my favorite cheese biscuits. It feels personal.

I sit and think. What do I need? I've got a house. Food. A caretaker. Something to do. Well, one thing to do. It comes to me as Sae sets a small bouquet of wildflowers on the table that her granddaughter picked on the way over. Pink and white blossoms. Wild onion. Something to do is what I need.

"Can you draw for me?"

He's caught off guard. "What do you want me to draw?"

"The plants. In the book we were working on. We never finished it."

He furrows his brow, thinking. "Okay."

Greasy Sae's granddaughter comes in and shows him the drawing she's made. I think it's supposed to be him, but I can't tell. He smiles at her tenderly. "Thank you, it's beautiful." She flushes happily and sits down next to him.

"You're good with her. You're going to be good with kids," Sae notes as she sits down and dumps pan fried potatoes on his plate, then mine. "My kids were all about patience."

Peeta's expression has changed; something dark is on his mind. I don't want to know why it upsets him. Maybe whatever they did to him in the Capital made it impossible to have kids. Maybe Aurelius told him he isn't safe to be a father. Both are terrible, because Sae is right. He would be good with kids.

I ask Sae about her grown children and she starts to tell us about the three girls and two boys she raised; one daughter died in childbirth and left Sae the sweet girl at the table, but the others live elsewhere. I let her go on and tell us about their lives, who she'd heard from since the war and who she's waiting to hear from. She's not worried though; she knows they're okay. She just has this feeling.

Peeta helps her clean again, but before he leaves with a parcel of turkey he asks when he should come back to work on the book.

"Whenever," I stutter out.

He thinks for a while. "I'll come back at two." He closes the door.

I look around my house to find out where the clock I haven't smashed ended up.

"How's this?" Peeta holds up a drawing of the wild onion.

"The petals are a little shorter. See?" I hand over the pink flower I was toying with while I watched him.

"Hmmm. They're spread out, too," he murmurs as he takes it from me to examine closely.

He tries again. I watch that look of concentration. It's so familiar, we could be up in my room with my foot wrapped up on a pillow a year ago and I wouldn't be able to tell them difference.

"I picked these for you after the first Games. When we stopped the train for a break. Real or not real?"

I close my eyes. Of all the memories to salvage, he finds the one where he realized I lied to him. I feel his presence on the couch next to me. "Real," I say, looking up. His eyes are still trained on the book.

"Did I know they were onions?"

"No. I don't think so."

"It seemed like a weird thing to pick."

I surprise myself with a laugh. He looks up, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry," I muffle my giggle. "I just pictured receiving an onion as a gift. It was…funny. Sorry."

He smiles. "They are good," he agrees. "But maybe not enough for a gift." He holds up the paper. "How about now?"

"Perfect."

I hand him the book and he copies his work carefully. I watch him again. It's relaxing to watch him.

"Do you still have paints?"

"Yeah," he says, not looking up. "I'm still painting."

I nod. I had guessed as much. "Can you paint these pages sometime?"

"I don't think I should use paint. The paper might buckle."

I'm disappointed. Color would be a nice change from the gray ash color of the pencil.

"I'll see if Effie can send me colored pencils."

"You still talk to Effie?"

He glances up when he can hear I'm shocked. "Yeah, she was in the Capital while I was stuck there. A familiar face, you know. Didn't mind hanging out with me either. I think she was lonely since all her friends were dead too." He looks back to work.

"How long were you there?"

"After you left?"

"I think…yeah. How long…I don't know what day it is." I realize it as I'm speaking it out loud.

"It's Tuesday."

"What month?"

He stops working to look up. "You don't know what…day-day?"

I shake my head.

"It's May 26th."

"When did I come back here?"

"February 19th."

"When did I kill Coin?"

"December 25th."

I blink. "Is that Christmas?"

"Yeah. The 25th of December."

I process this all, trying to piece together my lost days and weeks. It's been a long time. Peeta moves to pick the paper back up, but stills his hands.

"Thank you. For killing Coin."

I meet his eyes. "You're welcome."

"I thought you really wanted another Hunger Games. With the Capital kids. It's not like I could blame you," he shrugs. "But I'm glad you didn't."

"I almost did," I reply honestly. "For her. But she wouldn't have wanted that. I couldn't do that in her name."

He picks the sketch back up and adds a few lines. "How's that?"

I take the book from him and examine it. "Good enough to eat," I smile.

"That was awful," he grins.

"I've never been very funny," I admit.

"Finnick was funny. Real or not?"

"Real!" I say. "He was always teasing me."

Peeta nods thoughtfully. "You and he scared me on the beach with the sunburn cream, right?"

"Yes, but-" I add this part proudly "that was my idea."

He smiles. "I guess you are funny." I think I'm blushing.

"His son looks a lot like him."

"You've seen Annie's baby?" He's surprising me a lot today.

"Yeah, she sent me a photo. I'll bring it to you. She named him Finn. Johanna says it makes him sound like a fish, but I like it."

"Where is Johanna?"

"She left for Seven while I was still in the Capital. She said she'd call to tell me when she's leaving there for good."

"Why wouldn't she stay?"

"There's no one there she loves."

I sit silently. These people I loved are still alive. They are living. Something about it hurts. It makes me feel like I've forgotten something important.

Peeta's voice cuts into my storming memories. "I'm tired. I'm going to stop now." He puts down the pencil he was working with and stretches his hands. "Do you want to work on something tomorrow?"

"I want to start another book!" I nearly shout it.

He looks at me cautiously. My hysteria is barely contained. "I lost months. Months," I'm shaking. "I need to remember."

"Katniss, you need to breathe."

I'm hyperventilating. I look at Peeta in terror. "Breathe in," he says slowly.

"Breathe out. In. Slower. Out. There you go. In slow. Out slow. In….out…."

The rhythm brings me down. "I want…to start…another book."

"What kind of book?"

"I want to remember."

He's quiet for a long time. "I don't want to remember all of it." A stab of pain hits me. I wouldn't want to remember loving me either. "I know I need to, Katniss. I just…it's going to be bad for me."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about that."

"No, I mean I'll do it. It's just going to be bad."

"You don't have to. You shouldn't if it-"

"I should. I need to." He sighs. "I'm going to go now."

It is bad. It's worse, actually. For both of us.

I started that night, writing the story of why I went into the Games in the first place, falling asleep on pages wet with my tears. I wrote about his father bringing me cookies and telling me he would look after Prim. When Peeta read it the next day, he cried into a pillow for half an hour and went home without working in it at all.

When he came back on Thursday, he told me. "I miss my dad a lot." I nod. "And I'm sorry for my mom. Your mother was always first in his mind."

It was my turn to cry. "I'm so sorry, Peeta. It made things so hard."

His eyes were getting red, so he looked out the window. He shrugged. "What can you do? You love who you love."

He sat down and wrote about his father helping him and Delly make bread people from dough. How his mother signed him for wrestling after his oldest brother accidentally dislocated his shoulder in a scuffle.

I write about Cinna; he writes about Portia. We sit next to one another and cry. The day I write about my father and he has to help me upstairs when I cry myself into exhaustion.

He pours my limp figure on my bed and drops a blanket over me. As he turns to leave, I put my hand on his arm. "Will you stay?" It's a barely audible whisper.

I want him to tell me "Always." That I'm forgiven. That I can forgive myself. But he can't.

He lays down silently on the opposite side of the bed from me. He doesn't hold me, but his body rests close enough I can feel the heat from his skin. I roll to face him, letting the tip of my nose brush his shirt sleeve. I fall asleep breathing him in.

It gets better. We still cry, but I think we're running low on water. The new book is nearly 100 pages in just these few weeks. The photo of Finn is on the cover for now. It makes me smile. Peeta smiles too, but there's something sad in his smile. I'm still too afraid to ask.

Haymitch chases a goose into my yard while we're in the middle of a passage about the war. He carries the thing inside when he heard Peeta crying.

"What did you do to him?" he eyes me suspiciously.

"It's not her, I was thinking about Mitchell. I killed him."

The goose squawks and struggles, and Haymitch sighs as he set it down outside to chase later. He comes to Peeta and sits next to him. "My boy, my boy," he murmurs, patting him gently on the shoulder. "You're the only one in this room who's not a murderer."

My insides contract. He is right, of course. I may not have had a choice when it came to survival, but if I was truly selfless I would have died before murdering any of the children I had. Only Peeta is strong enough to do make a sacrifice like that.

"What is this thing?" Haymitch asks, picking up the stack of pages we've tied together with string.

"It's a book. About us. All of us," I answer.

He unties the bundle and reads quietly, flipping from page to page. Peeta sits, watching his shoes. I watch Haymitch. I've not seen him much. I think he might be sober.

"I can fill in some things. On Coin. And Snow. You're missing some details from the Dark Days, too." He's speaking so softly I can barely hear him.

"Yes," is all I can find.

"Tomorrow. I'm going to go get that damn goose. And a drink," he says, stomping out the back door and yelling after his bird.

Haymitch does help. Somedays he's sober, somedays he has to be dead drunk. Holding Maysilee's hand while she died took him a full bottle of liquor to tell. The stories he has of Effie are my favorite. For as proud as he is that she can't stand him, there is a fondness in their partnership.

"Do you miss her?" I ask him, teasingly.

He considers the question. "Sometimes. Annoying that woman was the only delight I had these past few years. The woman before her was a brick wall; couldn't get a rise out of her."

"You should call Effie. I have her number," Peeta says.

Haymitch raises her eyebrows. "She gave you her phone number? Hunh. Would have thought you were a little young for her."

My eyes dart to Peeta. He gives Haymitch a withering look. "She's lonely there, Haymitch. She'd love to hear from anyone."

"I'm sure I'm at the top of that list." Regardless of his protests, Peeta is able to write down the phone number for Haymitch. I wonder if he will call.

"Have you talked to her…recently?" I ask, trying not to sound too nosy.

"Last week. I asked for the colored pencils. She's going to have to look for them; most of the non-essential stuff has been lost in the shuffle."

"Oh." I wonder what answer I was looking for.

"Do you want to call her?"

"No. Thank you."

Peeta leaves. He doesn't stay every night. Only when I ask. I want him to ask.

I switch on the TV to listen to other people talk while I boil a soup Greasy Sae left. I sit in front of a documentary about genetic manipulation and its impact on the local fauna for an hour before I realize I'm not paying the slightest attention. I drop my dirty bowl in the sink and go to bed.

I wake up with a start. I hear screaming. It's not mine.

I've left the window open every night since Peeta and I shared my bunk on the train. His window is open too. I know where the screams are coming from.

It's dark outside. As I run down the stairs, trying to find my boots in the dark, Dr. Aurelius' words come back to me. If anything's not safe…I shake my head. He came to me. I have to go to him. I owe him.

I sprint the short span between our houses. The front door is locked. I run to the back. It's locked too. I don't lock my doors. I skirt around the side of the house and find an unlocked window and crawl into his living room.

The screams are coming in short cries, along with outbursts. He's yelling for help, but he's saying his own name. I reach his bedroom door and notice my hands are shaking.

"Peeta?" I whisper as I push his door open gently.

It's as though I stepped into my nightmare. He's lying under the sheets, his face pale and sweating, glowing in the thin moonlight. I expect to see Snow hovering over him with a needle. I even look around.

"You've got to kill him." It's muted by his sleep-paralyzed lips, but I can understand what he's saying. "He's not safe. You've got to kill Peeta."

"No," I whisper, slipping to his bedside and touching his arm. "No, he's safe. We can trust him."

I'm confusing his dream. His brow furrows. "No, no, no, no." They grow to a scream. "He's going to kill her!"

"Peeta! Wake up!" I cry out, gripping his shoulders. I shake him with all the strength I can find in my frail bones. "Please wake up!"

His fingers are clutching at my ribs in my nightgown and his eyes are searching my face frantically. I can't tell if he's breached the chasm between sleep and wakefulness; his eyes are wild and glazed.

"Katniss," he breathes. "It's not safe." He tries to sit up.

"Shhh, it's safe," I whisper, kneeling beside the bed. "You're in bed. You're in your house. You're in Twelve. You're safe."

"Are you safe?" he asks, squeezing his eyes and rubbing the heel of one hand against his temple. I think he's waking up.

"I'm right here."

"Are you safe?" he asks. He looks at me. His eyes are still glassy.

"I'm safe," I say slowly. "I'm safe with you." Even asleep I want him to believe that.

He nods. "You kill him if you're not safe. You kill Peeta." His eyes flutter closed and his fingers release their grip on my nightgown.

I watch him sleep for a long time. It's peaceful now, eyes fluttering beneath the translucent fair lids. When I'm content he'll stay asleep, I stand and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.

"No," I tell his dream. "No."

He doesn't remember last night and I don't tell him. Looking back, he'd locked all his doors to keep people out and I broke in against his wishes. Maybe he didn't want to risk my showing up at all hours, wailing over the book and seeking solace. He's never come back to me for comfort.

I'm focused on the empty hole inside me when he repeats the question.

"The girl from District Five. You called her…Sly? Fox?"

"Foxface?"

"That's it. Should we write that down?"

"She was sly as a fox. Let's write that down. She outsmarted us all."

"I killed her."

"You are not a murderer."

I see now what Dr. Aurelius meant. Peeta drifts off, staring at the rug with a tortured look on his face. I watch helplessly as he disappears into the memories in his mind, real and planted. I lean over, palm open on the couch cushion he sits upon, hovering my body near his.

"Peeta?"

He gasps when he snaps back, startling me, and I fall on his injured leg. His yelp of pain coincides with his hands roughly grabbing my arms just below the shoulders. He has strength even in his weakened state, and he pulls me from the falling position and shoves me back against the arm on the sofa. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and he's breathing hard as he watches my face.

"I'm sorry. I fell. It was an accident. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Peeta, I'm sorry."

His eyes snap back to blue. He realizes he's pinning me. "Oh no," he whispers, letting go suddenly. I slide lower into the couch. I can feel tingling where his fingers were on my arms.

He gets to his feet, staggering. He bumps the coffee table and pencils spill and scatter. His eyes are still on me, where I slouch on the sofa.

"You didn't hurt me. I'm okay. I'm safe," I whisper.

But it's too late. He's run out the door and disappeared.

I let him have five days. I work alone. Sae had been tapering off her visits as I grew stronger with his help. When she comes by to check and finds me alone again, she tsk-tsks, but cooks me a huge meal to keep me going.

When the wild dog soup runs out, I go to his door. My plan is to ask for bread, offer to catch squirrel, but when I knock I realize I don't smell any flour or butter.

He opens the kitchen door and I don't see any loaves on the counter. No stacks of parcels to go out. Only a canvas duffel bag by the front door.

"What are you doing?" I slam open his screen door and walk inside without an invitation.

He doesn't answer me right away. "I'm…going to go. For a while."

"Where?" I sound demanding and my voice is strangely high-pitched.

"I don't know yet, I just need to go. For a little while."

"We haven't finished the book."

"I'll come back, Katniss. I just…need to go for a while." He's so quiet.

"You're leaving me."

"No! I...I need more time. I came back too soon."

"You didn't hurt me!" I'm lying; there are bruises hidden by my sleeves. But I know he wasn't attacking me. I hurt him. The only thing frightening me was the idea of him leaving. "We'll be okay here together!"

"I've got to go." He breaks away, frantic, and walks to the front hall, picking up the bag and hauling it over his shoulder.

"Please no!" I run in front of the door, blocking his path. "We have to finish the book," I beg, fighting the madness welling up.

"Katniss, move." He's wavering, his expression fretful. I push forward and he takes a step back.

"I can't work on it alone!"

"I'll bring you more things. I'll get more memories and bring them back to you. Okay?" He's begging me now.

I shake my head. "No." That's not what I want.

"It's just for a little while. Just a little more time."

"No."

"Katniss-"

I dart forward and wrap my arms around him. He stumbles and drops his bag. I firm my grip on him and close my eyes as his body stiffens.

His form is familiar. I know the smell of his skin. The warm feel of his breath on my forehead. The scratchy chin where his blond stubble pokes my temple. He's held me so many times, but each time is new. It's been so long I didn't realize how I ached for human contact.

"Please hold me."

He reluctantly complies, slowly moving his arms around me. I wonder if he's trying to steady me or himself. Finally they encircle me. I sigh into his neck. "Stay," I whisper against his skin.

He breaks free before I can knot my fingers behind his back and grabs his bag. He dashes around me and is at the door when I cry out.

"I'll come back!" he says, his bottom lip quivering. "I promise!"

He moves as fast as he can, but I can still run faster than him. Even so, he's stronger than me and despite my pulling on his arm or bag he's able to reach the entrance to the Victor's Village with little trouble. Aside from my own tears making him cry.

He flags down a passing supply cart for a ride to the train station. The driver looks worried at our tear-streaked faces, but doesn't ask questions. He tosses his bag into the back and climbs in after it.

"I'll come back," he says desperately.

"No you won't," I cry. "You'll leave me here alone."

He reaches out and pulls my fingers from where I grip the cart. He holds my hands in his. "I'll stay with you. Always." He pulls me closer. "I promised you. I remember."

I can't help myself. I'm so hungry for him. I lean my face up and kiss him. He starts as though to jerk away, but stops. He leans into our kiss, gently but with a matched hunger. He pulls away and touches my face.

"Go," he says to the cart driver. His fingers slip from my face and he takes my tears with him as he goes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Now you know I didn't want to come over here." Haymitch sits grumpily at the table while Sae's granddaughter frowns at him. Sae serves us rabbit stew. "I have geese to look after."

"Those geese look after you," Sae retorts, splashing him with the ladle.

Haymitch eyes the young girl giving him a stern look. "What's eating her?"

"She misses him." I wish I hadn't said anything. Now they'll want me to keep talking. I don't want to talk. Four days of silence was just the start of my plan to go mute.

"The girls do fall for him, don't they? Well, the smart ones." Haymitch's words dig at me like a knife.

I throw down my spoon and storm up to my room. I lock the door and leave the light off, curling into a ball against the door to steep in darkness. He left me here to rot.

My legs and backside go numb waiting to hear the dishes clink in the sink, the tap of Sae leaving a dish outside for Buttercup, the click of the front door, the silence of the empty house. Finally I stand, stretching my toes and bending my knees to get the feeling back. I unlock my door and walk back downstairs to find the leftovers Sae has undoubtedly packed for me.

"Thought you'd get rid of me that easy?" His raspy voice is like an arrow to my brain.

"Why are you still here?"

"Working on this." Haymitch is holding the book on his lap, examining the pages. "Filling in the gaps."

"Go home."

"Not yet."

His uncharacteristic patience is infuriating. He knows me well enough, and I he that I know he's doing it out of spite. I glower as I stomp to the kitchen and heat a pot of cold stew. I eat in the shadow between the kitchen and the living room, watching Haymitch write paragraph after paragraph. Finally my curiosity gets the better of me.

"Which gaps?"

"What the rest of us saw in the Games."

The plate feels too heavy in my hands. "What did you see?"

"Two kids. Trying to protect one another. Trying to get home."

Is that what we were? Were we ever children? I shakily put the plate on the coffee table and take the pages from his hand. I read.

The mentors' reaction to our partnership. The anger of our commitment to one another. The fear of the Gamemakers that love was more powerful than destruction. Why we survived. I have to stop reading when my hands are trembling too hard to steady the paper.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I answer.

"Well," he sighs. "That's a good place to start." He puts the pencil down and leaves, whistling to himself.

The next morning I'm pounding on his door. He doesn't answer, so I open it and walk in unannounced. There's a goose wandering the living room and I see he's left his back kitchen door open. The goose waddle-runs away from me as I stumble over to close the door. He's there in the kitchen, face down on the table. A small puddle of vomit is under his mouth, like an afterthought before he passed out.

I work the knife from his right hand before dumping the ice water on his face. He slashes with his empty fist when he jumps up. It's a minute before he realizes who I am and starts to glare.

"Give me Effie's phone number."

Chased from his house by his curses, I grip the strip of paper with the digits in my fingers and pick up my phone. I haven't called anyone but Peeta before.

She answers with her typical chirrup, but there's an edge that I never heard before. As though she now knows the world is not sunshine and daisies and it could be waiting for her on the other end of the line.

"It's Katniss." I don't know how to interpret the silence that follows.

"Katniss Everdeen?" I roll my eyes to the wall.

"Yes, Effie. It's me."

She sounds instantly like herself, fawning over the TV coverage of her tribute, asking about how I am, how Twelve is, how excited she is about our new medicine factory that she hopes will make her favorite diet pills soon.

When I can't listen to anymore, I ask. "Is Peeta there?"

She's caught off guard. "What? Why would he be here?"

Part of me is relieved. The other part doesn't want Effie to know why I don't know where he is. "Oh, he was going to stop by the Capital," I invent. "He's traveling a bit. I thought maybe he'd stop by to see you and…" my mind races "I had a question about the stove."

She laughs affectionately. "Oh dear, he does all the cooking too?"

I force a girlish giggle. "He's always been better at that stuff." I hate sounding so trite and carefree, but I need her information.

"Well, if he does come by I'll be happy to tell him to ring you."

"Oh that's all right. I'm sure Haymitch could tell me. I just hate to bother him this early."

"And how is Haymitch?"

"He's himself, you know."

"That I do." I hear her sigh softly.

"Effie, do you miss him?" I'm teasing, but I don't think I'm insincere.

"Honestly?" There's a conspiratorial note in her voice. "Yes. He's so disagreeable. It's nearly entertaining."

I smile. "Do you have a piece of paper? I'll give you his phone number."

I sat by the phone, smiling to myself. He was going to kill me as soon as she called him. Maybe before their conversation was even over.

But my enjoyment only lasted a minute. He wasn't there. At least not with Effie. I should have been less surprised, I can't even think about the Capital without feeling panicked. It must be worse for him. But where could he be? It had been five days by now; he could have gotten halfway across Panem by now. It only took a day to get the Capital on their premium trains; two if using the supply trains chugging back and forth across the country these days.

I pressed my fists against my eyes and thought hard. There's Annie in Four. Johanna if she's still in Seven. Who else did he know anymore? Where had Delly gone? Would he look for her? He'd never go visit Gale, I counted on that. If not Effie, who?

Aurelius.

I sigh. He would go to Aurelius if he thought he needed help. He would face that terror of the Capital if he thought it was the only way.

I break out in a cold sweat and try to remember that the war is over. The civilians aren't looking for him in the streets, tearing apart anyone who looked remotely like him. There are no hovercrafts dropping parachutes to set children on fire. The horrors are in my head. I settle my breathing but it doesn't help. That place would only ever mean death and pain for me. And for him, the place of his torment. The place that took away who he was.

I'm so sorry I made him go back. My guilt billows up like fire until I can't stay still. That's when I know what I'll do. I'll run after him. He has to come back. And so I'll go.

I left Haymitch and Sae a note: "I'll bring him back."

The train rolls in slowly. A few returning civilians eye me as they disembark. I wait until the train is empty before climbing on. No one else is going to the Capital.

I pass from car to car until I find a sleeping compartment. It's cramped and dank, not at all like the beautiful trains from the Game. It's covered in coal dust and the air is musty. I leave my bag in the sleeping car but decide to sleep on the chairs in the traveling cars.

As the train starts moving, I move to the last car to watch the departure. I think back to when I watched Twelve shrink away the first time I left. I remember being afraid of what I was leaving behind. I don't feel that way anymore. I focus on what I'm running toward.

I sink into a chair against a window and watch the landscape pass. As the sun passes overhead, I search the train until I find a car carrying a supply of food. I break the corner of the box and steal a packet of crackers and a can of meat. I didn't think to pack food and I'm famished. They can throw me in jail. I've been through worse.

No one comes. I doubt they realize anyone is on the train. I don't even know if I'm supposed to have a ticket.

It's a painful and awkward night, but I'm glad I don't sleep much. If the conductor heard me screaming I doubt he'd know what to do. Maybe throw me off the train.

The next day passes the same. I watch the change of the landscape. The fields and trees flatten out and the ground grows rocky. We're getting close.

I press my face against the glass as I feel the pull of gravity. We rise up through the mountain pass and the train presses me to my seat. I begin to panic. I'm going in. I'm going to have to fight in the arena. I reach for Peeta's hand.

The burst of yellow light through the windows lets me look around. He's not there beside me. He's not smiling and waving. He's gone.

Sullen, I slouch back to the compartment where I stashed my things. I pull the bag onto my back and hurry to the caboose. I'm going to sneak off again; it seems like the best plan. I hang on to the railing as the train slows until I can jump on the platform. A few young men minding the platform call for me to wait, but I run as fast as I can out of the makeshift station they're rebuilding. I'm scarred and mangled, but I'm still fairly recognizable if they're looking.

I duck into a corner until I'm sure I'm not being followed. I pull the hood of my light jacket over my head and make my way through the streets. I wish I'd bothered to ask where Aurelius lived. I have his phone number, but I hate to call ahead and give Peeta a chance to run.

After wandering for hours, I finally have to give in. I'm so hungry I can barely walk. I need to find someone to take me in. I reluctantly locate a public phone in a medical services clinic and dial his number.

"Where are you? It sounds noisy." The doctor sounds pleased I'm out in public. Well, I can change that.

"I'm in the Capital."

"What?"

"Mind if I come over?"

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Twelve! You're not supposed to leave."

"Oops," I feign.

"Where are you?"

He's at the clinic in ten minutes, looking panicked. "I can't believe you came here. There are still those that think you're a risk to public safety." He guides me to a car outside while he scolds me. He's looking back and forth, but no one is paying attention to us.

I say nothing, nodding and sighing. I sit in the passenger seat and he hurriedly jumps into the driver's seat, speeding off. The car is eerily quiet. His fingers tap the steering wheel nervously. The roads and buildings are still pockmarked from explosions and gunfire. I close my eyes until I'm sure we've passed through the City Center.

We pull up in front of what I have to assume is his home and he pulls into a driveway. I get out and walk towards the front door, but he calls to me to go around back. I roll my eyes and walk to a patio out back. He lets me in after entering from the front.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for food," I say, dropping my bag and walking past him. I can see a big metal icebox in his kitchen. I'm shocked when I open it. There are two doors, one for frozen things and one for cold things. There are all sorts of boxes on his shelves.

"Cereal?" I read the side of a box sitting by the icebox. "What's cereal?"

He pulls a plastic jug that reads "milk" from his icebox and closes the doors. "Sit down."

He pours me a bowl of crunchy flaky things and dumps milk on it, handing me a spoon while he puts the milk away. I like cereal, I decide with the first bite. I don't know what kind of milk this is, but it's sweeter than goat's milk. I like it too.

"Now. What are you doing-?"

"Is he here?" I slurp my food. "I'm not leaving without him."

He looks sad and concerned. "He's not here."

I stop eating. I was so sure.

"He left yesterday."

"Did he go home?" I'd feel foolish, but at least I'd know he was planning on returning to me. Even though I wouldn't be there for another day.

"No. He said he was going to go help a friend move."

I rack my brain. Johanna.

I begin scarfing down the cereal, standing up to leave as soon as I finish. "Thanks," I say, shoving a last spoonful into my mouth. "Gotta go."

"Stop. You know I can't let you leave like this. Why are you here?"

"I don't have time. He's a day ahead of me."

"I'll put you in the asylum." His tone stops me. I don't think he's kidding.

"I can't go there."

"Then sit down. Eat. Talk."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Wanting and needing are different things."

I stare hard at him. I don't want to get into this. "Did he tell you why he left?"

Aurelius frowns. "I can't tell you what we talked about. You know that."

"He thought he hurt me. That he wasn't ready to be near me and snapped. But he didn't. I mean, not on purpose. I fell on his leg and it scared him. He was pushing me off his leg. He said he came back too soon."

Aurelius weighs his words. He's trying to figure out what to tell me. "I told him...the same thing. I know he wouldn't hurt you on purpose. He's learned to focus these…distractions inward. To sort them out inside before taking action."

"Then why did he leave me?"

"He didn't leave you, Katniss. He left Twelve. There's a difference."

"There isn't."

Dr. Aurelius rubs his eyes with obvious frustration. "You make everything about you, you know. Have you ever thought that this trip was for him?"

I sit silently, stung by these words.

"I didn't mean for that to be hurtful, I'm sorry I said it in that way. This is for his own good. To give him some distance from himself." When I don't respond, he sighs. "Come on, I've got to find a place for you to stay tonight. I'll get you a ride out of here tomorrow."

"I can't stay here?"

"You're a patient. A young, female one. Under no circumstances can you stay here."

I realize what he's thinking before he says it. "Oh no."

"She'll be delighted to see you."

As he pulls up in front of Effie's house, I'm still stewing in my own thoughts. I replay our conversation over and over. I move to open the door and stop.

"You're wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"About why he's traveling. It is about me."

"Now, I know it's flattering-"

"Stop it, please. I'm sure you're trying to make me feel better. You may even be covering for him like he asked. But you can't make me forget that Peeta and I are connected in a way you can't understand. He's my reason for what I'm doing and I'm the reason he's doing what he is. That's how it's been for two years and will be for the rest of our lives. Neither of us can escape that reality, no matter how close or far we are."

He watches me for a long while, letting the engine idle. A small smile pulls at his mouth. He pulls the key from the ignition and sits back. "I am trying to make you feel better. And while what happened is not at all your fault, he's scared and he's running from it. And," he laughs a little to himself, "you're running after him." He turns back to me.

"I'm sorry all this fell on your shoulders, Katniss. All of it. Life will never be easy for you."

"I don't need easy," I say, feeling a lump in my throat. "I've never had it before. I just need…" I have to stop.

"You just need time," he says softly. "You both do." I close my eyes and nod. "Now go on inside and get some rest. Be a young girl for a while. And tomorrow you'll be on a train home."

Effie was naturally shocked to see me, but recovered to play gracious host with ease. She wasn't entirely comfortable with me there, but let's face it, we were never really friends. She tries to make light conversation over our tea, but we struggle awkwardly.

"I was so surprised when you called; I didn't think you were up to speaking to anyone yet."

Wow, I realize. The good doctor really sold that crazy angle to get me free. Effie was convinced I didn't know how to use a phone anymore.

"Did he come by?" I say after a long and tense pause. Effie blanches.

"I don't know what he told you, Effie," I say, "but whatever it was, we're fine."

She shakes her head, "No, no, it's nothing like that!" She waits while she gathers her thoughts. "I know you said not to say anything, but when he did come by – nearly right after you called – I said you had called with a question about the stove."

"And he was surprised because I wasn't supposed to know where he is," I finish for her.

She starts to nod, but stops. "He was…It was surprising. For him," she repeats.

"Lucky guess," I sigh. "He's left…without me."

"Oh," she says, trying to discern my meaning.

"He didn't tell you that?" I'm slightly pleased he's not that close to her.

"No, not at all. He said he came because you were working on a book. He asked me for anything I could help out with."

"He did?"

"Mm-hmm," she smiles proudly.

I think she's fishing for my question. "And what did you give him?"

"Your locket. Or rather, Peeta's. The token that he wore in the Quell. What was left of it."

I'm obviously shocked, so she goes in to detail. She was in the observation deck in the Capital when I exploded the force field. Everyone went into lockdown shortly after that, and she was taken captive for questioning. She was trapped in the Capital holding areas for civilians for four months. I shudder for her involuntarily, despite knowing she faced far worse than Peeta.

She was released, under observation. She went home for a long time, afraid to leave her house, even though it was ransacked and she had little left.

When she finally couldn't stand another day without sunlight, she went outside. She knew they were following her. So she decided to show them how much she hated us. She found a car to take her to the arena. It was a long trip without a hovercraft and she was able to make certain she was being followed easily. The arena was nearly torn apart by the investigation, and she made a big show of throwing around our ruined weapons and screaming that we betrayed her. She beams when she tells me that she even sunk down into the sand around the Cornucopia, ruining her favorite fur skirt. I try hard not to roll my eyes or mention that's the slightest injury sustained in an arena.

She says she looked around her when she thought they'd left her alone and saw something sticking out of the sand where she'd been stomping arrows into splinters. It was a little gold circle; with what she thought was once a bird etched on it. It was bent and a bit of the side was melted, but she knew what it was. She put in her pocket. She composed herself, and made a grand gesture of spitting on the ground as she left, cursing us all and hoping we were dead loudly.

I stare at her. "That was…very brave of you, Effie."

"Why thank you. I thought it was quite clever myself."

The gift he'd given me; my freedom. It had survived. I wish I could see it. "He said he didn't know if you'd want it back, but he would ask. If not, he'd send it to a memorial."

"You didn't want it? I thought relics were in this season." I wish I didn't sound so hostile.

She looks at me for a long time, weighing her words. "What did you think of me? Back then. Honestly."

"When we met? Oh," I stammer.

"You can be honest."

Can I? "I thought you…didn't have…good priorities." That sounds less insulting than calling her a blithering idiot.

"You mean I lived a vapid, shallow lifestyle and benefited at the suffering of others?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"Katniss, I don't regret my life. I'm not ashamed of who I am. Were you ashamed of being a coal miner's daughter when you arrived here?"

'No!" I shout at her. "I'm proud of my family!"

"And I'm proud of mine. My great-great grandmother was a Victor. That's how my family came to live here." She folds her napkin and sets her teacup down. "The Games gave me my life as much as they took others. They're all I am. Or were, I suppose."

I stare at her. I don't know who this person is anymore. "Did you ever think of me when it wasn't time for the Victory Tour?" she asks.

"No," I whisper.

"Did you hear my name at parties?"

"No."

"I'm nothing here, Katniss. When I got the job at the Games I was someone. I couldn't care less who was dying for what reason. I just wasn't useless Effie Trinket anymore."

"You picked the children who would die." I have no pity for her.

She closes her eyes. "The job had…drawbacks. But you can't tell me you know more about my life here any more than I can tell you I knew about you before the Games."

"You're still an awful, petty person." I say it quietly with venom.

"I don't blame you for feeling that way. I still think you're selfish and stubborn. But at least I bothered to learn more about you before forming that opinion."

"I am selfish and stubborn."

"And I'm petty and awful. It's who we are. That doesn't make us bad people. We're just not as good as others."

Prim, I think. Peeta. Madge.

We appear to be finished conversing, so she clears the tea tray and starts to tidy her house while I sit on the sofa, watching her. We're so very different, she's like an alien. But in a way we've become the same. Forever changed.

When Dr. Aurelius picks me up the next morning at sunrise, she bids me farewell in her robe. I stand in front of her with my bag over my shoulder.

"Have a lovely trip. Stay in touch every now and then."

"Not too often?"

She smiles knowingly. "That's probably best."

I smile at her. "Goodbye Effie," I say, surprisingly her with a brief hug.

I climb into Aurelius' car. Before he pulls away, she starts calling and waving. "What is she saying?" Aurelius asks.

"I think she's saying to wait," I frown. She dashes inside and then runs back out as I roll down my window.

"I nearly forgot!" She's breathless as she hands me a thin cardboard box. "For Peeta."

I grin at the colored pencils in my hand. I look back up to her. "Thank you," I say. And I mean it. I stuff the pencils snugly in my bag. As we begin to roll, I call out "Be sure to call Haymitch! He misses you too!"

I'm still snickering to myself when we pull up to the train station. Aurelius gives me a disapproving look as he takes my bag from the car and pulls my hood further over my face. "That platform there - the coal train that's unloading will head back to Twelve in about fifteen minutes. I've let the engineer know a friend will be riding back, so he won't bother you. Just sit tight and you'll be home soon. Here's some food for the trip," he says, handing me a heavy brown bag. "Please, please call me as soon as you get back safely."

"I will," I say. "Thank you."

He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze. "Go, quick."

I climb aboard and wave as I settle into the seat. As soon as his car turns the corner, I run as fast as I can to the engine room.

"Aren't you-" the engineer asks.

"No. Which train takes me to Seven?"

Despite clearly knowing who I am, he does point me in the direction of a train of a train unloading a small pile of logs from a flatbed car. I slip into the last car. It's a little cleaner than my coal train, but there are splinters everywhere. I'm digging two out of my thumb when the train starts up.


	3. Chapter 3

Seven isn't as far from the Capital as Twelve but it does take the better part of a day to get there. The train has a handful of returning civilians, so I find an empty car and squeeze between two luggage racks to make sure I'm not spotted. It's late afternoon when we roll into the station and I creep out of my hiding place to hop off. I'm stiff and sore and it's reminding me of when I would hide behind the supply cabinets in Thirteen.

I'm starting to feel like I'm back in a war now. It's a new Game, a new battle. Something that's driving me. Find him. Bring him home. I say the words to myself with each footstep as I look for anyone that can help me find where Johanna Mason lives.

I walk through the town around the train station and find it's not too dissimilar to Twelve. The houses are wooden, of course, but the workings are more skilled. Talented fingers carved columns and door plaques. I wonder at an ornate wooden sculpture that adorns their Justice Building. It's a work of art. I'm staring up when I bump into the little boy chasing his sister for a maple lollipop.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I say, helping him up. He stares at me. I realize that even with my hood up, my scarred face could be frightening. I brush my hand in front of my face to hide the worst of it. "Say, do you know where the Victor's Village is?"

He points me to the right, smack through town and runs away. I see him whispering to his sister and they look back at me. I turn away. My looks aren't something I have time to feel ashamed about.

I walk through town, keeping my head down. My eyes keep slipping up to look at the woodworking on a railing, or a carved birdfeeder on a porch. I nearly catch a homeowner's eye at one point, and remind myself that to most of Panem I'm still a homicidal madwoman. I've got to stay out of sight.

Finally I see a sign, carved and polished that reads "Welcome to the District Seven Victor's Village." There are a number of houses lit up here in the late afternoon sun. I know they had a number of male victors here that are still living. But just one female. How to find her house?

I skip the houses with swings or toys in the yard. I move past the ones where I hear laughter or music inside. I move past the one painted in a sunny yellow.

It's the lone house far in the back that catches my eye. It's set back due from the others due to a small boulder in the hill; it stands alone. This is the one she would have chosen.

My nose strains to smell baking bread, any butter, flour, cinnamon, anything. But the air is sweetened only by the beautiful forest that encroaches on all sides of this Village. I walk up to the door, wondering if I'll find an empty house.

I'm sure I hear movement inside. I knock, tentatively. The movement stops. I wait. I knock again. And again.

The door flies open and she's there, axe in hand.

"Holy shit you look terrible."

I give her an exasperated sigh and cock my head. "It's nice to see you too."

"Come in," she grins, stepping aside and letting me in. I have to smile as I walk past her. She bolts the door behind us.

The house is nearly empty. The furniture is sparse, clearly handmade by the local artisans. The table and chair legs are intricate filigree and the archway between the kitchen and dining room has an incredible pattern carved into the walls.

She drops her hatchet on the table. "I'd ask what brings you here but seeing as you called Effie, I can guess."

"Is he here?"

"No, he went ahead with the first shipment of my things. I'm meeting him there with the last."

"Where?" Johanna doesn't answer right away. She watches my frustration with amusement. "Where is he going?"

She laughs a little. "He should be in Four by tomorrow morning. I'm going to help Annie with Finn."

I drop my bag and slump into a huge armchair. She's still smiling at me. "Stop it," I grumble.

"What? This is hilarious. You're chasing him across Panem. If only you were this persistent when he needed it."

"Stop it!"

She can see she's hit a nerve; she stops. "Sorry," she mutters off-handedly. She shrugs. "Hungry?"

"Not really."

"Well, I'm going to eat. You can do whatever you want."

"Do you have cereal?"

She doesn't, but she does have some eggs she collected from a nest this morning and makes me an omelette with wild mushrooms and onion grass. I'm surprised she's an able cook. She never offered to make anything in the Arena. "Why would I spend my last few minutes alive cooking?" she asks with raised eyebrows. We eat quickly and she tosses the dishes into a pan of soapy water to clean later.

"Well, you're here. Might as well help me finish packing."

She shows me that last room to finish: her bedroom. We take pictures off the wall and wrap them in paper; she tells me how she made the frames by hand. I think they're her family, the two children in one of the photos look similar to her and she's the spitting image of the woman in a wedding dress I'm wrapping up.

She opens her closet and starts dumping clothes in a heap on her bed. "You're going to wrinkle them all!" I laugh, starting to fold them and put them into the wooden crates she dragged up from her back porch. She opens up a drawer and starts throwing balled socks at me. I dive under her bed, looking for shelter.

"Ow!"

"Oh yeah, look out for the axes."

I'm glad I only hit the handle, but I give her a sour look as I pull three axes from under her bed. "Why would you need three under here?"

"You never know," she shrugs. "I like them all." I drop them into another crate.

We pack into the night, until her room is almost empty. "Leave those," she calls as I fold up her last pair of pants. "I need something for the train tomorrow." I nod and pull out a shirt for her, too.

"How long is the ride?" I ask, handing her socks.

She sighs. "I know I should tell you not to come. But I can't carry all these boxes alone, so he'll just have to deal." She turns and heads back downstairs.

I follow her to the stairs and stay on her heels. "Does he really not want to see me, Johanna? Is that what it's really about?"

"He didn't say anything, but I seriously doubt that knowing you two. He just said he went home too early and so he was going to travel around for a few weeks and then try again," she replies simply as she moves to her kitchen and pulls out food. I slump down in a dining chair and stew.

"Oh, and he said he was looking for memories."

I pop back upright in my chair. I'd forgotten about the memories. "Did you have anything for him?"

She smiles mischievously. "Maybe."

"What is it?" She has me jumping in my seat.

"Well," she feigns sheepishness. "I might have…stolen it." My brow knits. "You weren't coming back! It wasn't like you could come get it!"

My eyes widen. "You have…my pearl?"

She blushes. "Well, Peeta has it. I gave it to him to give back to you. I guess he can give it to you when we're in Four in two days."

We load up the crates in a wagon out front and sit in front of the fire in two heavy rocking chairs to eat the leftovers from the icebox and shelves. A question that has been puzzling me finally drifts to the surface.

"Why did you vote for the Games? With the Capital children?"

She glares at the fire. "I killed my district partner."

I knew it to be true; I'd seen it in the videos Peeta made me watch before the Quarter Quell. I'd not paid much attention, but I knew it was something that was frowned upon. I wait for her to continue.

"I didn't have a choice, I know that. We were the last two alive and I sure as hell hadn't gotten through those three weeks just to lay down and die. But I did know him. We weren't friends - or lovers - but he was a part of home. And I had to kill him." She looks over at me. "Life isn't the same after you kill someone, is it?"

I have to agree. I've never been the same. I never will be.

"And if you had killed Peeta, even if he wasn't obsessed with you, imagine how that would feel. Going home."

My stomach knots. "Did his family blame you?"

"Of course. I mean, not publicly. They couldn't. But Branch was dead by my hand, and no one can pretend they didn't know. Especially me. You know," she laughs bitterly, "I honestly was sweet when I went to the Capital for my Games. I had a lot of friends. I had been on a few dates, even. But when I came back…I couldn't face those people anymore." Her smile fades. "Even the ones that could forgive me. I couldn't face them."

"What about your family?"

"There's only so much you can do when someone won't open up. Maybe I should have talked to them. Told them how much everything hurt. But I didn't. My mom finally broke. She's the one who decided to move back to their old house in town. Said that since I was eighteen at that point I should have my own space, but I know it's because she didn't know what to do with me anymore."

I ache for her. She was abandoned too.

"I don't have anyone here, Katniss. My brother fell out of a tree three years ago; died on impact. My sister's a stranger. I don't even know where my parents live anymore; the old house burned down last summer and I don't know where they moved. Is that fair? I had a family who loved me and I loved them until a man in a city far, far away told me I had to kill a boy who hadn't done anything wrong. And then no one could love me anymore and I couldn't ask them to. That's why I voted for those kids to die. So their parents had to face the same choices mine did."

She has to stop. I don't think she wants to cry in front of me. "I don't blame you, Johanna."

She peeks out behind the hand covering her eyes. "Really?"

"I wanted it in a way. For Prim," I shrug. "I just wanted Coin dead more."

She laughs out a huff, deflecting. "Who didn't? What a bitch."

I laugh a little too. "She did hate us."

"Mostly you!" Johanna throws back, grinning. I grin back, feeling warm and at ease with someone who knows me.

We settle back into silence, watching the crackling fire. "It's nice that it's so cool here in the summer. We don't tend to need a fire until late September at home."

"It's Red Cedar," she says. I must have look confused, because she follows with "It burns cooler than Alder or Black Locust. Keeps it from getting too hot."

"Are you going to miss it here? I didn't think there are a lot of trees like yours in the south in Four."

She's quiet. "I think so. But I feel good about going."

I tell her, "Finnick would be grateful."

"I loved Finnick."

"Oh!" She's caught me off guard entirely. "I thought…I thought…"

"That I couldn't love anyone? Or that I was a lesbian? I get that a lot. Mostly from men," she smirks.

"Johanna, I didn't mean anything…I just…I had no idea."

"I didn't advertise it. Especially after I met Annie. She blew me away."

I look over to her. She smiles, still watching the fire. "I did love Finnick. Until I met Annie."

I can't think of anything to say. She finally looks over.

"I do think she knows. And she's kind enough not to say anything."

"Are you going to okay there? I mean, happy?"

She considers me. "It's not ideal, if that's what you mean. But it's okay for me. I'm not good at…I can love her and take care of her and her baby and it'll keep me going. Give me something to focus on. Give my life a meaning. For a while." She takes a deep breath. "I don't know what the next few years are going to bring. Maybe I will meet someone who can love me back. I don't know. This is the first time there's ever been an option, though."

I look at her fondly. She's changed, too. Not so unwilling to trust. Not so hardened.

"What?" She's caught me watching her.

"You're…sweet. It's shocking."

"Shut up," she laughs as she throws her chair pillow at me.

She gets a lot of stares as we ride through town in a cart full of her crates. I neglected my hood and people stare at my scarred face. "Do they recognize me?" I ask.

"If not, they recognize me," she grits through her teeth. "Ignore them. It's what I do."

The porters on the platform load her crates wordlessly. She either nods or gives one-word directions. I'm surprised that even after all she did for the revolution they're still scared of her. I pull my hood up over my head as I see a few people have started to gather to watch her leave. She gives the porters a generous tip each, piles of coins, then climbs up on the train, reaching down to help me after her. I start in to find a seat, when I see she's stopped at the door, frozen.

There's a woman with ear-length brown hair on the platform, twenty feet away. Johanna is staring at her. The train starts up and she's rocked back and forth, but keeps staring. The woman raises her hand, just one, into the air and holds it until we're out of the station and into the forest.

"Was that…?"

"My sister. Saying goodbye."

She sits in stunned silence as we ride on into the day.

"That's a birch. That's an elm."

"Those a katniss flowers by that pond. Those are jack-in-the-pulpit. Those are magnolias."

"I know what a magnolia tree is!" She pokes me with her elbow.

It's a simple game, but it's something to keep us occupied on this long trip. Sharing information, something of our lives that isn't too painful.

"I've never climbed a palm tree," she muses. "I saw them on my Victory Tour, but I didn't get a chance to climb one. Annie says coconuts are delicious if you know how to crack them open. That's why I brought this little guy." She pulls out a small hatchet from her backpack. "Ann uses rocks. This is cleaner."

"You and your axes," I grin.

A passenger across from us coughs and eyes her weapon. Johanna sticks her tongue out at the older man and puts the hatchet away. I watch her stare at the passing trees. She watches them roll by like old friends.

"When did you start throwing axes?"

She bites her lower lip as she thinks. "Eight? I think eight. My mom told me I cut my hand open with one at five, so I must have been trying to use it earlier, but I know Dad took me to practice when I was eight."

"I was so jealous of you, you know. In the arena. We don't go into the mines until we're eighteen; we don't practice with a pick axe or anything before the Reaping."

She scoffs. "Jealous of me. That's a new one."

"Well, not your charming personality," I tease. "Your skill. I wish I could throw like that."

"No offense, Katniss, but I hope you never have a reason to learn to throw an axe at a moving target ever again."

I turn to face her. "And I never want to teach you to shoot."

"Deal." We shake on it.

"Katniss, wake up. Wake up!"

She's shaking me hard. I jump awake and nearly fall off the seat. My eyes adjust to the low light and I see her eyes wide in my face. I feel hot, but the window behind her is open.

"Was I screaming?"

"Not quite screaming," she says softly, looking up at the passengers watching me. She leans in to my ear. "You were calling for Rue."

I nod and close my eyes. I knew she was in my dream. I remember we were in the clearing, she was about to bite into a leg of groosling, but it turned into an arrow in her mouth. I had looked down and saw the bow in my hand. When I looked up, the hovercraft was carrying her away; yellow petals falling from the sky.

The light outside is pale blue; just before the orange sun breaks the horizon. Johanna settles back in her seat, watching the trees until her eyes flutter closed. I lean against her shoulder to fall back asleep. I dream of sleeping on Peeta's shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

"Annie!" Johanna wakes me up with a jolt as she jumps off her seat to the window. "Annie!" Her head and shoulder are out the tiny window waving at the platform.

I blink and stretch, yawning gracelessly. Johanna trips over my legs running to the door, shoving the older man who dislikes her axes out of the way as she tumbles off the train.

I stand up to look out the window and see my friend embracing a dark-haired woman with all her strength. Annie is laughing, something I only saw at her wedding. It's beautiful. She's changed so much. I'm amazed. She opens her sea green eyes and spies me in the window. Her look of surprise isn't missed by me before she covers with a smile and wave. By the time I descend the platform, it's clear she's questioning Johanna.

"Look what followed me home, Ma!" Johanna jokes desperately. "Can we keep her?"

Annie smiles and sighs heavily as she hugs me. "Oh Katniss. I had a feeling you'd wind up here."

"You did or he did?" I ask sheepishly.

She gives me a knowing look, and motions for the porter to collect our bags on a trolley. "Where's Finn?" I ask, noting I don't see a carriage anywhere.

"He's with Peeta. The train station is so noisy. And honestly," she leans in conspiratorially, "I needed a break. He's teething."

She trusts him with her son alone. He's safe. I have to close my eyes so she doesn't see my gratitude is overwhelming.

Annie guides us around the back of the train station and I see what I missed while I was asleep. The train runs along the shore. The station is just off a white sand beach. We walk along a platform towards the water and the smell of salt air hits my nose and sunshine bakes my shoulders. I pull of my hood and close my eyes, leaning my face to the sun.

Annie laughs at my contented sighs and leads us to what I am told is called an airboat; a long flat skiff with a giant fan on the back. I'm instantly terrified. The thing looks like it will blow right off the water. "Come on, Katniss," Johanna scolds. "If I can get in this thing, you can."

She's right. She looks ill and green, but she steps firmly onto the boat, Annie's hands guiding her. They both reach back and help me on. The world seems to rock back and forth and I sink to a seat, gripping the bench and refusing to budge to help the porters load crates onto the deck.

"She's so helpful, isn't she?" Johanna nudges me with her boot as she passes a crate over my head.

"Leave her be, Jo," Annie gently admonishes. "I remember how you first reacted to an airboat." Johanna shuts her mouth.

We take off from the train station with my head buried in my knees. I hear Annie ask Johanna to take the rudder and hear her climbing to me in the bow. "Katniss," she whispers in my ear. "You'll regret not seeing this."

I peek up and find she was right. The sunshine on the water shines like nothing I could ever describe. It's blindingly beautiful. We're skipping along the water; splashes of warm sea water are kissing my face and drying to itchy little patches. I laugh out loud when I see a fish jump from the surface. I look over at Annie.

She's lost. She's gone in her world. I jerk my head around to Johanna. She sees.

"It's okay," she mouths quietly. "Just give her a minute."

Johanna steers the boat into an inlet and our speed drops off. It's a small, lagoon-like path that we follow. The trees and moss get denser, and I feel the humidity in the air grow thick. It's like drinking fog, and it's uncomfortable.

I see the little house in the clearing just before Johanna bumps the dock with the boat. The jostling knocks over a few crates and Annie comes back to us, alert. "Jo!"

"Sorry," she grins, stopping the motor. "I'm not good at landing these things."

"Docking," Annie corrects. "Come on, Katniss." She hops out on the dock, grabs my hands and helps me out of the boat.

I survey the house. It's small, a bit dilapidated, but cozy. The windows are a bit dirty, and the porch sags slightly. Moss has started to grow up the sides of the house, but I see a hoe lying against the house where someone has started pulling it away. Peeta, I smile to myself, always taking care of someone else. I smell the air, but I don't detect flour or dill. My stomach churns that he may be gone again.

I hear a baby squeal and giggle. I hold my breath.

He appears on the front porch, holding Finn. I'm frozen in my spot, watching them. The baby is playing with measuring spoons, gumming them happily and poking his fingers at Peeta's nose. "Johanna! It's about time. I can't get the rocking chair together." His eyes are watching me. I can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. He expected me. The bottom drops off from my stomach and my hands feel like ice.

"Okay then, I'll take care of that while you unload the boat!" She runs over, gives him and the baby a quick squeeze before darting inside and leaving us.

Annie eyes us both and then says, "Well, I'll see if Finn needs a new diaper." She takes the baby from Peeta with a strained smile and walks inside after Johanna.

I stand awkwardly alone, now. As relieved as I am to finally see that he's here, he's okay, I'm incredibly embarrassed. Maybe I am crazy after all.

He takes a step off the porch and forces a defeated laugh. "Did she bring her whole house?" He's moving to walk past me to the boat. He's going to brush it off, pretend this isn't insane that I'm here. I can't stop my mouth.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come back." Now he can't pretend either.

"Why, Katniss?" He spins to face off with me. He sounds irritated, but desperately so. He throws a glance back to the house. "Why wouldn't I come back?" Something is breaking open. He's here, I found him, I need him.

I'm struggling not to cry, but I hear the whiny thin voice that means I'm seconds from tears. "Because I never said I was sorry." He looks confused and upset, but can't find the words, so I find them for him. "I never said I was sorry for lying to you in the first Games. For not telling you that Haymitch and I were communicating with the gifts. For making you propose to me. For letting the Capital take you from the Quell and hurt you. For blaming you for so much. For never, ever being strong and good enough for you." I'm crying now, maybe it's shame and relief. Either way I can't stop myself. I cover my face.

I feel his arms go around me and he pulls my close, even as my elbows dig into our ribs. He lets me divide my sobs between my hands and his shirt. He rests his chin on my head until I finally quiet. "You came an awfully long way to say three words."

"I had to say them," I hiccup. "I owed you."

He abruptly pushes me away, holding my shoulders at arms' length. "Stop. You don't owe me anything. You didn't make me do anything for you. No one did. You don't owe anyone anything."

"You saved me so many times-"

"I made that choice. Because I wanted to. You owe me nothing."

"But-"

He pulls me in again, silencing me by pressing my mouth into his shirt. I let my eyes close and inhale deeply. "You don't owe me anything," he murmurs again, rocking me gently. I've always owed someone a favor, a kindness. A debt. I don't know what life would be like without it.

"Come on," he whispers to my ear. "We should unpack this stuff. It rains every night."

"Every night?" I snuffle and wipe my nose on my sleeve.

"It's only for five or ten minutes, but every night."

We haul crate after crate into the living room while Annie frets over where all these things will go. It takes nearly all afternoon, but finally we stack the last crate into the last corner and collapse onto her shabby sofa. "I'm not helping unpack," I grumble, rubbing my sore hands.

"I'm not either!" Peeta calls over his shoulder to Johanna as she smirks.

"That rocking chair isn't all play; I haven't gotten the support slats in," she says in her defense.

At dinner, I learn that despite being at home in the water, Annie isn't much of a cook. Johanna smiles politely and eats most of what she has on her plate, but I can tell she's already planning taking over this role. I swallow my overly salted and dry cod with a wry smile and nod when Annie asks if I like it. When she gets up to get Finn more water, I grab Peeta's roll off his plate and shove it in my mouth to rid myself of the flavor. He glares at me and I give him a look.

Peeta offers to clean the dishes, but Annie refuses. "No, you rest. You and Katniss carried all those crates, take it easy. Johanna will clean."

Johanna sputters, but I jump from the table and throw my napkin at her, laughing and running out of the screen door. Peeta is chased out of the kitchen shortly after, his hands soapy from attempting to help. I'm waiting outside.

He wipes his hands on his pants and tries to find something else to look at, but we can't really ignore one another. We're each other's reason for doing anything. And everything.

"Oh! I have your colored pencils!" I remember suddenly while searching for a topic.

"You do?"

"Yep. Effie found some and gave them to me."

"That's good news. I wanted to color those pictures for you." He slips off the porch and starts kicking moss off the foundation thoughtfully.

"You really were going to come back." I can't tell if it's a question.

"Yes, Katniss," he sighs. "I was going to come back."

A loud crack makes me jump, frantic. He runs to me. Neither of us is good with thunder.

"It's just the storm," he pants, but I can feel his hands shaking as he leads me onto the porch. We press our backs to the wall, feeling the solid house and watching the line of rain advance across the yard. When the lighting shoots across the sky, he rolls himself in front of me to shield me. I'm back in the arena too, smelling the salt of the tidal wave.

We stay locked together until the thunder and lightning moves away and we're left with just the torrential downpour. The air between us had grown warm and I'm chilled as he pulls back. I feel drips from the leaking porch roof tapping my forehead. His hair is wet. We watch the rain side by side.

I hear Johanna swearing loudly in the baby's room as she struggles with a wooden rocking chair. Peeta and I share a smile as I hear Annie running in to hush her in front of the baby.

"That kid is going to know some awful words when he starts school," Peeta exhales.

"Peeta? Can you still…have children?"

He's looking at me with concern and confusion, so I elaborate hastily. "After what happened. In the capital."

"Yes," he says finally. "I mean, I think so. Why? Did it-"

"You just look sad. When you look at Finn. And with Sae's granddaughter. I was afraid. For you." I'm embarrassed now he thought I was asking something else.

"I'm afraid I'll forget Finnick. I want to tell Finn what he was like. How he helped me so much in the Quell. And in the war. I was afraid I wouldn't remember."

"We have the book," I offer. He nods. "You'll remember." I touch his arm. "You will."

"You don't want children. Real or not real?"

I was unprepared. I have to stare for a short while. "I…don't..Real? I think."

He looks at me. "You'd be a good mother," he states as he turns and walks back inside. I watch him. I want to believe him.

"You're soaked!" Annie scolds as I appear behind him.

"Not soaked, just...damp," Peeta smiles. He wanders into the bathroom and comes back with two towels, tossing one over my head playfully for her benefit.

Annie coughs nervously and I pull the towel off my eyes to see what she's worried about.

"I…Where am I going to put you all?" She laughs anxiously. "Umm, there's Johanna's room. I guess I could put you there, Katniss. Or Peeta. We can set up the mattress. Or if someone wants the sofa, it is very comfortable! Or…I guess…"

"Katniss and I should share the sofa, it's okay." He looks to my surprised face. "If you have a nightmare, you could wake the baby."

Annie nods, trying to gauge if this is a good idea. "Okay. Johanna, let's get your mattress set up."

I take a bath while Peeta helps carry the mattresses up the stairs. When I'm out, I help Johanna make up her bed while he's bathing. "Are you going to be okay down there?" she asks while we shove her pillows into cases.

"He's fine," I assure her. "We're fine."

"No, I mean are you going to get knocked up too? 'Cause I'm not helping with another baby."

I smash her on the face with a pillow and run out of the room as the pillow hits the door frame behind me. I'm smiling as I run down the stairs, trying to keep quiet as not to wake Finn.

"What's going on?" Peeta asks in a hushed voice, toweling his hair.

"She's a better shot with an axe than a pillow," I explain. I move over to the sofa and straighten out the blankets Annie had set out. It's warm and humid here, I doubt I'll need both. Especially sharing it with Peeta. I look at the soft couch. It's not so narrow, and we're both still too thin, but I'll still have to lie a little bit on top of him to get us both on the couch. I wonder if he minds.

"Is it enough room?" Annie appears at the foot of the stairs. "It's a little small."

"Not too much smaller than the cave," Peeta shrugs, hanging his towel on the banister and picking up mine from where I'd left in on the floor by the sofa. "It's only two nights, we'll be fine."

The way he makes it sound, it's as though he and I planned the trip together. A few days with friends. I like how it makes me feel. Part of something.

Annie bids us a good sleep and climbs the stairs, giving Johanna a quick kiss on her cheek at her door before going to bed.

I'm still standing by the arm of the sofa when Peeta asks, "Ready?" I nod and sit down on the sofa, wondering how to position myself. He turns off the lights in the kitchen and comes over to the sofa. He seamlessly sits next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist, and pulling me halfway on top of him and half on my side as he lays us both down. I'm reeling from how simple it all was when he reaches over his head and clicks off the last light.

We lay in the darkness. I listen to him breathe, imagining he's doing the same. It's indescribable. I had been with friends I trusted since I left Twelve, but nothing compared with knowing it was him next to me. I drift off.

We're back in Twelve and he's covered the entire back porch of my house with flour. He's drawing in the flour, using a paintbrush taller than himself. I walk out of the back door to see what he's drawing. The porch seems to extend on forever, because the flour drawing seems to go on and on. I start walking to the edge to look in left-to-right order, but I never reach the end. I see what he's doing.

It begins with a little figure of a girl in a dress; music notes by her open mouth. It moves to a boy holding a loaf of burned bread with funny little sizzle marks coming from the top. The girl is then hunting with another boy, and he's drawn a broken heart over the boy with the bread. The girl has a little sister, and she's standing in front of her, protecting her while a woman with hair too big for her head stands at a podium. The boy stands next to her. There's an arena. A trumpet blast. The boy and girl run. They hurt, they burn, they find one another. There are trains, and mockingjays, and nightlock berries, fires, war, devastation. The flour tells the story of a world falling apart. It comes back together. A winter, a summer, primrose bushes by the side of a house. A boy and girl, older now, stand on a porch in the rain.

I watch him. He's still working, but I can't see what he's drawing. He's concentrating, like when he draws in our book, his blond eyelashes glowing in the sun. I hear a baby crying. I look back inside my house.

I wake up with a start. Peeta is awake too. Finn is crying; I can hear Annie shushing him. The new rocking chair creaks on the floorboards. I look up at Peeta's eyes. I take in his profile. It's changed. He's grown. But I can see in the man I lie next to the boy with the bread. I wonder if he sees the little girl singing a song in the woman at his side.

"Do you really think I'd be a good mother?" I whisper. He nods.

"Why?"

He tucks his chin down to look at me. "You're protective. Devoted. Persistent as hell."

I grin in the darkness. "Thank you."

I feel his jaw move against my temple. "Don't mention it."

I listen as his breathing starts to even out. I smell his skin. I can feel his cheek against my forehead. He's almost asleep. I shouldn't wake him back up.

I tilt my face up and kiss his cheek.

Wet, sticky fingers poke my face and I sit up sputtering. I blink and try to get my bearings. A baby with sparse bronze hair and sea green eyes has crawled over to the couch where I was lying face down and watches me now, smiling with his fingers in his mouth.

"Did you get her up, Finn?" Johanna comes around the side of the sofa to see what's happened. "Wow. You look terrible in the morning."

"Thanks," I scowl, pushing my face back down in the pillow. It occurs to me Peeta is gone, but I can smell butter and flour.

"Get up," she says, nudging my legs with her foot. "I need you out of the house so Ann and I can sort out this mess."

I grumble and swing my legs off the sofa. It's still warm here, even in the morning. I step over the baby, who laughs at my wild hair and stomp to the bathroom. By the time I'm dressed and washed, Johanna has set out biscuits and orange juice for me.

"Orange juice?" I stare at the glass.

"Yeah," she grins excitedly. "A neighbor has a tree in his backyard."

"And Annie trades for them?"

"Ummm…"

"You stole them."

She pretends to be very interested in the dish towels.

"He will trade for them, Jo. He's going to need that tree pruned after all." Annie appears in the kitchen, giving me a wave. "Please don't let my neighbors catch you stealing just yet. I want them to get a good first impression."

"Fine," Johanna grumbles. "It's weird being able to get what you want being nice."

"We'll all have to get used to it," I say.

"Well, all except Peeta," Annie says absentmindedly. She blushes. "Oh, sorry," she quickly adds.

"Don't be," I say. I wonder if I should tell her the rest of my thought. "Umm..Finnick…said the same thing. In the Quell. That Peeta was the only one there who was…a good soul."

"He had that right," Johanna breathes, looking regretful.

Annie's nodding. Tears well up and she turns and rests her forehead against the door frame. Johanna stands and moves next to her, gently taking one of Annie's hands and waiting.

"I'm sorry," I whisper at this tender moment. "I didn't mean to remind her."

"You only reminded her how exceptional he was," Johanna smiles, a little teary eyed. "I think we'll always want to remember that." Annie nods, her face still against the wall.

We stay in our tableau of mourning until Finn starts babbling and yelling. Annie shakes her head and wipes her eyes and goes to see what he's complaining about.

"Well!" she breathes as she returns to us in the kitchen, holding him. "Jo and I need to put the house back together-"

"So scram," Johanna says, taking Finn and handing him to me. "Get out of the house."

I panic. Finn is looking at me and he doesn't look pleased. "I've never taken care of a baby!"

"Peeta's outside working on the creepers. If he cries, just give Finn to him," she shrugs as Annie clears my empty plate.

"I'll be right inside, Katniss. You'll be fine," she reminds me. "Now go."

I hear the hoe scraping the foundation on the side of the house and carry Finn over to the noise. It's later than I thought, maybe ten o'clock, but the humid air is like midday at home. I can't imagine what August must be like here.

Peeta's shirt is stuck to him and his hair hangs in damp waves over his forehead. He's hacking at the moss with the hoe and yanking vines away from where it's latched onto the house.

He looks up when he sees me and laughs a little.

"What?" I flush. I try to remember if I brushed my hair.

"You look terrified. It's a baby. He's not going to bite you."

I look down at Finn. He's still frowning at me. "He doesn't like me."

"You're not smiling at him."

I give Peeta a doubtful look, but look back to Finn and give him a friendly smile. He gives me a toothless grin and yells "Ga!" at me.

"See?" Peeta goes back to his work.

I'm ecstatic I haven't made him cry. I start swooping him around like I saw Gale do with Posy so many years ago. He squeals and pulls my hair with his tiny fingers. I laugh along with him.

I stop spinning when I get dizzy and spot a baby chair with wheels on porch. I move to the porch and pull the wheeled cart onto the yard so I can help work and keep an eye on him. I wiggle his feet into the leg holes and get him settled, fastening the small plastic buckle to keep him secure.

I take a step back and smile at him. He reaches for me, arms extended, stretching up on his little toes like a bird about to take flight. I see Rue. I see Prim.

I'm on my knees in front of Finn sobbing when I feel Peeta by my side. "What's wrong?" He sounds terrified. He's looking back and forth to me and Finn, but the baby is watching me with concern.

"I saw…he reminded me of Prim," I cough out, pressing my fist into my mouth to muffle my tears. I don't want to frighten Annie.

He's sitting cross legged on the grass and he pulls me into his lap. He wraps his arms around me and I rest my head on his shoulder, letting my tears subside into sighs of melancholy. He strokes my back, gently. I feel him rock me ever so slightly. I can see why he's so good with Finn. He has the gift of comfort.

"She's safe now, Katniss," he whispers. "She'll never hurt again."

I squeeze more tears from my eyes. "I know. I'm sorry for me."

I stay still for a few more minutes until Finn gets restless and starts to fuss. I stand up and help Peeta to his feet. "Thank you," I tell him.

He nods with a sympathetic look and bends over Finn's chair. He pushes the chair across the grass, closer to the house where he's been working.

"I'll keep an eye on him if you want to lie down."

"No," I say, "I'd rather stay busy out here. With you." I move over and start pulling a vine that's started up the chimney wall. "Besides, Johanna won't let me back in the house."

"It's probably safer out here," he jokes, right before we hear a crash from inside.

"Much," I agree.

We pull vines and creepers, taking turns entertaining Finn. He's happy with the coconut shells and palm leaves handed to him. Annie appears about an hour later to check on us.

"You've gotten so much done, thank you so much," she says, taking Finn from his chair to check his diaper.

"It's nothing, Annie. It's hard to get things done with your hands full," Peeta says, nodding towards Finn as he starts to fuss.

"I really do appreciate it. You need to come back to relax some time." She looks over at me. "Both of you."

"That would be great," I smile. Because it would be. I'm not sure, but I think Peeta is blushing as he goes back to work.

We're alone for a few minutes as Annie takes Finn inside. I look over at Peeta. I watch him work, digging at the ground. He looks healthy. His limp is virtually gone; his false leg undetectable under his pants. His arms look stronger and the color is back in his skin. A hunger awakens in my stomach, something I haven't felt since the night on the beach in the Quell.

"Are you all right?" He's caught me staring.

"I missed you."

He watches me tenderly. "I missed you too."

I step over to him and wrap my arms around him.

"Oh Katniss, I must smell awful."

I grin, "You really do. But so do I," I laugh. He laughs with me and hugs me back. He moves to pull away, but I hang on to him and he understands to wait.

"I missed this," I whisper to his neck. "I didn't think I'd ever get to do this again."

"I promised you I'd come back," he sighs sadly. "I wish you'd believe me."

I pull back so I can look in his eyes. "I know I should have. It's just…you don't owe me anything. You had no reason to come back."

"Dammit, Katniss," he say angrily. He pulls away from my arms and stomps away, only to round on me. "What do you want from me? Why would you say that to me?"

I'm too shocked to come up with a coherent answer. "You…you did so much for me. I…I…only hurt you, why would you-?"

"I can't leave you. I'll never leave you. I promised you. But I couldn't sit in that house, every miserable day loving you and knowing you don't love me back. I remember, Katniss. I remember." His ears are getting red. He closes his eyes. "I never wanted you to love me because you thought you owed me back for loving you. You love who you love, that wasn't your fault." He opens his eyes. "I just needed a break from remembering how that felt. When we were working on the book I started recovering the Victory Tour, and how I proposed because I had to. And you said yes because you had to. I kept getting lost in that feeling over and over again, and I just had to get away for a bit, that's all."

"Peeta, I can't survive without you!" I yell at him. I don't care who can hear me. "Love isn't enough of a word for us! I can't just love you; it isn't big enough for this. We belong to one another! Why don't you believe me?"

"You're saying that because you think you owe me!"

"I don't owe anyone a damn thing! Not after what this war has cost me. You want me to tell you I love you? Fine, I love you. But it doesn't mean anything compared to what we have. You should know that by now! I need you to survive. To live every day," I'm choking to finish my words. "I can't spend a week without you in Twelve before I take off across this whole fucking country just to find you and bring you home."

I stand close and put my hands on the sides of his face. "Love is too weak for survivors like us."

I've made him cry. He's stammering, trying to find an argument. I can't listen to him fight me, deny me, so I grab him by his collar and pull him in to kiss me.

I remember his mouth, his lips, his tongue. It's a part of my memory as much as a part of me. When we separate I rest my forehead against his. "No matter how near or far we are," I whisper, "you are mine. I'm yours. Always."

"Katniss…"

I kiss him again so he can't tell me he doesn't believe me. That what I've said isn't enough. I thought I understood every type of hunger until this moment, wanting him so badly and feeling him resist. How he survived thirteen years of this starvation is unimaginable.

"Please hold me," I plead.

He wraps his arms around me. I knot my fingers. I won't let him get away this time. I don't know if he believes me yet. It doesn't matter. He will.

We sit in silence on the dock, watching the water ripple gently beneath our dangling shoes. The sunlight is dancing on the water in the late afternoon.

Annie had found us crying and kissing in the yard; she'd tried to sneak back into the house but Finn had started babbling and we noticed her. She was embarrassed, but invited us in for lunch.

Johanna raised her eyebrows at us, but managed to keep quiet after Annie kicked her in the shins when she opened her mouth.

The house was a mess, but things were moving into their places. We stayed inside for a few hours, helping sort out boxes and move things to the proper rooms. When Finn went down for a nap, Annie fell asleep on the sofa and Johanna slipped into her room to hang up clothes. We went outside.

"Which house should we live in?" I ask.

"What?" He had been distracted by the water.

"Yours or mine? Which house?"

"You…want…"

"I can't sleep without you," I shrug. "And they're going to want to fill up those houses with survivors that lost their own. We should give one up."

He looks back over the water. "I hadn't really thought about that."

I know he hadn't. And I'd honestly just thought of it myself. But I can't stop myself from pushing. I need him to know I'm his.

"I guess yours," he says finally.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he says. "Mine was only ever a place to live. Yours is a…home. You know?"

I do, so I nod. "There are some things…I haven't touched her room."

He looks over. "We don't have to. We don't need all that space."

"I should though. She did so much good. Her things should do good too."

He nods. We sit.

"Do you want to see your mother while you're here?"

"She's still here?"

"Yes," he answers. "I haven't seen her, but she helped deliver Finn. Do you want to see her?"

I don't answer. I'd been thinking about it. I don't know.

"You don't have to," he says to my silence. "I just thought while we were here you may want to talk to her. It's not too far from the train station."

"No, I should. I just…I haven't spoken to her since…" Prim died. I haven't heard her voice in half a year.

He let me taper off without finishing. "Do you want me to call her?"

"No, I will," I say, even though I'm not sure I do want to.

He shows me the notebook where Annie writes down phone numbers and goes to gather two by fours to prop up the sagging porch while I search for her number. I pick up the phone and wonder if she keeps day or night hours. I don't know what it's like at that hospital. She was gone all hours of the day in Thirteen. I stretch the phone cord from the kitchen to the porch to keep quiet.

I consider hanging up on the fifth ring, but her breathless voice greets me suddenly. "Hello?"

I stutter.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Mom."

A stunned pause follows. "Katniss," she breathes.

I start to cry. She joins me.

Once we are able to speak, I let her know I'm in Four and I'd like to see her. She's happily surprised. I'm grateful. "When can I see you?" she asks.

"I was going to leave tomorrow, but I'd like to see you before then."

"Please, come see me. What about ten? I'll have a break then."

"That would be nice," I sniff. "Oh, Peeta is with me."

"He is?"

"Yes. Is it all right if he comes with me?"

"Oh. Of course," she answers. She seems surprised. I suppose I can't blame her. She left for Four when I left for Twelve. She doesn't know what's happened to any of us. Like me. We had to run away from everything.

We say goodbye and agree to meet at the new Justice Building next door to the hospital at noon.

He stays close when I squeeze under the porch. He's afraid there could be alligators in the crawlspace, but Johanna says not even gators will go near that wreck of a porch. I find the rotted support beams and hammer in new ones. Peeta passes me nails from above and I like seeing his blue eyes throw the gaps in the slats.

When we're finished patching the holes in the roof, evening is falling. He volunteers to cook. I tell Annie it's therapeutic so she'll let him. Johanna and I try not to enjoy it too much in front of Annie. Finn babbles and watches us with mild interest, but he clearly adores Peeta. He has the patience of a saint, playing peek-a-boo for half an hour. I note I'm not the only one bereft when I think he's gone.

We sip tea on the porch and watch the evening storm. When the lightning starts, Johanna has to go inside. Annie follows her quickly.

"I'm glad she's got someone to care for her."

"Annie?" he asks.

"Johanna."

I sleep well that night in a house full of love.

We make a scene saying farewell at the airboat docks behind the train station. Annie is crying so hard that Finn starts crying and Johanna starts yelling that everyone is being ridiculous since we all have telephones now. Peeta hugs them all goodbye and gives Finn a kiss on his cheek. I cry and force Johanna to hug me, even as she's scowling and telling me to move. We wave and wave as their boat pulls away.

It's a noisy walk through town lugging our bags as we look for their Justice Building. I feel people watching us; our looks are too coincidental to be anyone else, so I yank the hood of my jacket up.

"Are you getting sunburned? Annie gave me something to help," Peeta says, noticing.

"No, I just don't like people staring."

"You're the mockingjay."

"Please don't call me that. I'm not anymore. I'm just a scarred freak."

He stops walking. "Your scars bother you?"

"Yours don't?"

I look at him. I think he fared a little better than me, personally. One of his eyebrows didn't grow all the way back in, the last quarter inch of the skin is marbled as it stretches from his cheekbone to his temple in a scar. The left side of his neck betrays the burn that rolled down his shoulder and upper arm. The rest of his body was covered; the burns were less severe.

It's the scar on my chin that bothers me the most. It's bright pink still, and arcs up to my right ear. The triangle of melted skin on my neck peeks up from my color. Some shrapnel cut my face across the other cheekbone in a diagonal slash and that's faded to an angry red. My hair is only now touching my shoulders, but there are parts that are still uneven. I've never thought I was a beauty and never cared until everyone started staring.

"No," he answers. "I got them trying to save you."

I have to stare at him. He amazes me.

"My scars don't bother you?" I ask timidly.

He leans over and touches the burn on my chin. "Every time I look at you I see the woman who saved me. Who saved all of us. You're more beautiful than you can ever imagine, Katniss."

It drives me crazy I took so long to realize I loved him. I lean into him and kiss him. He kisses me back, pulling my hood down. I don't care who stares.

"Katniss?"

I pull away at the sound of my mother's voice. "Mom?"

She's standing ten feet away. I hadn't realized we were that close to the Justice Building, but she absolutely saw me. Peeta's face is bright red.

She walks over to hug me and offers her hand to Peeta, clearly unsure of what to do. "Let's go to my apartment. I'm right over there," she says, pointing to a small brick building across the square.

Her home is small but clean. There are books everywhere. I see she has charts and medical diagrams strewn across her dining room table.

"You're studying?" I ask, looking at a paper that reads "Sample Test".

She smiles as she delivers cups of tea to us. "I'm actually teaching the doctors. I'm creating the tests."

"That's incredible," Peeta says, accepting his tea cup.

She nods graciously, but I can see they're both still embarrassed from earlier.

"So…you live here now?" she asks Peeta.

He coughs a little. I see the confusion. "Oh no, I came here with Peeta. Or rather, I followed him," I laugh a little and he smiles. "We still live in Twelve. We helped a friend move here."

"You live next door to Katniss?" She's not smiling anymore. Neither is Peeta.

"We're okay, Mom," I say softly. She looks panicked. "Really, Mom. I'm safe."

"I stayed in the Capital with Dr. Aurelius for a long time, Mrs. Everdeen," Peeta says quietly. "He didn't let me go home until he was sure. I…I can ask him to call you," he says awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," she says, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sure you're okay, Peeta. I've known you your whole life, it's just…when I last saw you…" She trails off.

"I know." He stares at his shoes.

"He planted primrose bushes in the yard. For her."

Tears well up her eyes and spill down her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispers, meeting his eye.

I start to cry and she rises to embrace me. We cry and cry until I have a headache and my arms tremble. She pulls back from me and reaches for Peeta. He stands and she embraces him, letting him cry on her shoulder too.

She pulls back and laughs through her tears. "Look at us! We're a complete mess."

I have to laugh as well; our running noses and smeared faces are disastrous.

"I've never been the neat one, Mom," I remind her and she sighs in agreement.

"I always had to chase you with a towel to get you clean. You were your father's daughter," she smiles. She looks over at Peeta. "And I'm so grateful that you are your father's son. He was a good man, Peeta. He'd be so proud of you."

Peeta smiles and rubs his wet eyes with the heel of his hand. "Thank you."

We dry our tears and talk about better days, trying not to cry. The clock on her mantle chimes too soon and she has to go back to her work.

She walks with us, holding my hand, until we reach the midpoint of the road where she must turn to head over to the hospital and we have to turn to go to the train station.

She holds me as tightly as she can and kisses my cheek, asking me to come back again. I tell her I will. She kisses Peeta on his forehead, and tells him to look after me. He promises. She knows he'll keep his word.

We board a train bound for home.


	5. Chapter 5

The night we arrive back he takes his pack back to his house to get fresh clothes. I ready myself for sleep and sit on my bed to wait. I last fifteen minutes before I can't stand it and walk over. He looks up from the pile of laundry he's sorting and rolls his eyes at me when I step into his bedroom.

"Really?"

"Yep," I grin at his annoyance and climb onto his bed. I fall asleep watching him arrange shoes and wondering if when he moves in he'll sort out my messy closet for me.

The next day we take a loaf of fresh bread to Haymitch and he takes it from us with a "well it's about time" before shooing us away so he can watch his goslings hatch.

Sae is more gracious and thanks us for the bread. Her granddaughter waves at Peeta and gives him a hug before spotting a beautiful orange butterfly on the window sill and chasing it outside. Peeta asks after her children and she lets us know they've all called. They're all home safely.

We walk through town and stop at the barren, scorched land where the bakery stood. The ground is scratched where shovels took away the ashes.

"Where did they take them?" he asks quietly.

I show him the meadow. He's in too much pain to cry. I take him home.

He lies with his head in my lap on the sofa and stares. I run my fingers through his hair.

"I wish I'd said goodbye. Before the Quarter Quell. I thought we'd get to see them in the Justice Building. I never said what I wanted to."

"I know," I murmur, stroking the scar by his temple. I had thought the same. "If I could do it again, I'd have thanked him for watching over Prim and my mother. And for you."

He looks up and me. I lean down and kiss him. "I'm glad he got to see your heart when he watched the broadcast. I'm glad everyone got to see it," I whisper.

"I want to put them in the book."

"Me too."

We pull the book out that evening and start to work. He draws pictures and adds details about his brothers, I write about Peeta. I have pages and pages to write.

We finish the book just over a month after I brought him home. I cut holes in the left-hand corners of the stack and we tie them together with baker's twine.

"Do you want to keep Finn on the cover?" I ask.

"No, I have something else."

I move his photo to the page telling the story of Annie and Finnick while Peeta goes up to our closet. I have to wait for minute. No matter how tidy he tries to keep it, my mess invades his space over and over again.

He returns with a small token in his palm.

"My pin." I never thought I'd see it again.

"Haymitch found it when he was cleaning out your old room in the Training Center; where they kept you after Coin and Snow died. He forgot to give it to you on the ride back here. I found it behind his sink yesterday when I was chasing a goose out of his bathtub."

I nearly laugh. "Those damn geese."

"They keep him busy. And mostly sober."

"Mostly." I take the pin from him and turn in over and over in my hand.

"We don't have to use it."

"No, it's perfect," I murmur. I pin the bird through the cover cardboard and fasten it tight.

I put the completed book down on the table and watch it.

"How do you feel?" he asks, sitting next to me on the sofa.

"Like it's really over now," I say. "Like I can let it go." I feel like the weight of the world has released me, even for just a moment.

He takes my hand and kisses my fingers. A thrill runs from my fingers to each of my joints. I look at him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asks.

"Let's go to bed," I say.

We're awkward and nervous, but I feel complete and whole as we lie holding each other after. I smile when I realize I always knew this was how it should be. How I wanted it to be. How it always will be.

He held my hand when I finally had to clean out Prim's room. I mailed the outfits Cinna picked out for her to Posy. I gave pencils and toys and dolls to children who lost parents in the war. I kept the outfit she wore to her first Reaping. I buried it below the primrose bushes.

The letter arrived from District Two about a month letter, thanking me for the clothes and asking after me. I called him.

Gale was surprised that I'd called, but grateful. I was sorry he still blamed himself. I know it was my anger that drove that on.

It was a short conversation, but I felt better when we hung up. He wasn't angry Peeta had moved in, and I felt no longing when we said goodbye. We were at peace.

Peeta hadn't proposed again a year after living with me, so I asked him one night while he was sketching out a katniss flower to be painted on the window of the bakery as soon as the glass went into the new structure. "Oh," he says. "I was…yes?"

"Is that a question?"

"No, I mean of course yes! I just…I had something." He runs upstairs and comes back down with a small box, stamped with the metalworker's logo.

"What is that?" I ask. I reach for it, but he pulls it back teasingly.

"My locket with the mockingjay etching. What Effie gave me was so mangled I couldn't really see keeping it. So I had it melted."

He opens the box. Two thin gold bands. "I know rings are sort of a Capital thing, but…I had really wanted to do something…special."

I stare at them. "Because I'm the mockingjay?"

"No," he frowns and shakes his head. "Because you're mine."

I cry when he puts the ring on my finger. I call my mother. She cries with me. It seems silly to cry when you're happy.

Annie and Johanna plan a visit with Finn when they hear the news. By the time they leave a week later, he's started on why we should have one. Every week I wake up to a list taped to the bathroom mirror with reasons why I'd be a great mother. I tear it up.

We'd been home five years when he finally figures out how to get me. "I just want more of you in the world, Katniss."

"Oh please. The only one there should be more of is you."

"So…."

"Dammit."

He's so eager that night we fall off the bed.

On her fifth birthday I teach our daughter The Valley Song. He watches me with adoration. She gets on a chair in the dining room to sing it over and over again. He moves to stand by me and holds my hand as we watch her. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Us.

That night we conceive our son.

In the end, Peeta learns to accept that I'm not a romantic. He may talk in poetry about love and hearts, but I'll always know he's the one I can't survive without. He's the air I breathe and the reason to wake up. I suppose it's two different languages telling the same story in the end.


End file.
